Homicidal Liu: The Beholder (A CreepyPasta Tale)
by Angel of Shadow and Snow
Summary: Behind glorified cell walls, the young man with two minds has been sleeping. She's been offered like a lamb to the slaughter, burdened with the task of unraveling him. It's been almost three years since his brother tried to slaughter them all and this doctor seems like she wants to help. But his other half has a mission to complete and doesn't mind seeing her unravel too...
1. The Doctor

_Author's Note: Hello again, kids! Angel of Shadow and Snow, here. I know I've promised this one again and again but FINALLY here it is.  
This is the CreepyPasta challenge fic as posed to me by Miss Mollie Cross.  
Just again, as per the terms of the challenge:  
\- This fic will involve romance between a canon pasta character and an OC, (because this is supposedly impossible to do well XD )  
-The fic will contain at least one scene of smut, (because you're a pervert, Mollie). _

_As always, you guys know my writing style. Don't expect it to be cutesy.  
This is an 18 and overs fic. Expect swearing, references to nasty things and scenes of a sexual nature.  
ALSO, this is a CreepyPasta fic and fittingly, it's going to get scary. _

_The universe that this is set in, was originally created by the utterly amazing and very talented Mr David Near: [link]. Please check him out!  
This fantastic scene of his [link], inspired the fic. It's incredibly good and I definitely guarantee giving it a listen before you read this piece.  
Just as David does, I'll be using the surname "Keaton" instead of "Woods" for Liu and Jeff. If you don't like this canon, you don't have to read it. _

_Other than that, enjoy! _

**_Prelude _**

_Christine McKellan was the girl who chased the clouds above her head, despite being bound to the cold concrete that stretched beneath her feet.  
Her eyes would hungrily seek the slivers of wispy white and grey that marred the burning cerulean sky and with lungs, heavy with envy and exhaustion- the child of the earth would run.  
It didn't matter how fast or how far she'd have to run; she'd chase them anyway. _

_She'd chase them until her legs ached and her heart was ready to give out.  
The sad thing about Christine McKellan was that if, one fateful day, she managed to catch a cloud- feeling the soft sinews of suspended water brushing against her fingertips- she would only realise that her chasing had been in vain.  
She would realise that the cloud was nothing more than a hazy blend of water, light and air and that it would disappear as soon as it met with her earth-shackled skin.  
Disappointment and despair would wash over her in a dual wave, causing her body to tremble.  
And then the hollow realisation would come upon her. _

_Why was she so disappointed?  
Why had she been chasing clouds in the first place?  
Would she really have known what to do with one, should she have caught one? _

**Part One: The Doctor**

It had been just about two years since Doctor Taylor's death and still, tension reigned amongst the staff members.  
The last one had only lasted about four days and he had supposedly been an expert.  
In fact, Greene had been nationally revered for his work in the field of Dissociative Personality Disorder and had come through those fateful beige and silver-lined doors with high recommendations behind his name.

"He made a fatal mistake. _The_ fatal mistake," Doctor Eustace Johnson had decided, after three days of filing new police reports and filling out new medical prescriptions. "He focused too much on the dominant personality. The biased personality. We need evidence and testimonies based on the patient's lifelong experience...not the hate-fuelled opinions of an ephemeral defence mechanism…"

With this theory in mind, Johnson had made the decision to send the new one in.

Many of the staff thought that it was too early- especially the orderlies who had catered for the patient in question for the last three years. They had seen the fitful attacks of terror that forced him from sleep at night. They had watched him sit, solitary, by the only window in his bedroom- a book in his trembling hands but his eyes firmly latched on world outside.  
They had felt the brunt of his rage.  
The rage that had for so many years, sat untested, unsatisfied and unmatched by any other patient at Smyth's Grove.

The higher-ups firmly disagreed.  
They thought that things were moving along far too slowly.  
There were other reasons- greater reasons- why the patient's progress had to be furthered.  
There were murmurs in and out of the board room that SCP had gotten involved.  
They knew very little about SCP and its inner-workings- but what they did know for certain was that if SCP gave an order, it was in your best interests to comply with whatever they wanted.

There had been exactly seven doctors since Taylor.  
The luckier ones had refused to speak to the patient again after just one session while the gravely unlucky ones had been persistent enough to meet their end at his hands.

Johnson was sick of arranging and attending funerals.  
One lone patient out of over two hundred was managing to single-handedly soil the name and reputation of the mental healthcare facility that he had spent just about three decades trying to build up.  
Deciding to try a new strategy, the head practitioner picked up the phone and scheduled the next session.  
Starting afresh was going to be difficult but with the number of important people breathing down his neck, it had to be done.

The "fresh start" was set to commence on the following Monday morning.  
Local weather services had predicted showers and low temperatures.

As far as most of the security staff at Smyth's Grove were concerned, local weather services had made a _fucking_ understatement.

"Son of a bitch," Mike Ainsely grunted, pulling the front-door entrance shut and wincing. "Fucking rain's going to fucking keep pouring all day and we're not going to be able to take 'em into the yard this afternoon."  
His eyes narrowed as he looked out at the verifiable typhoon that raged against the walls of the facility.

"Is that such a tragedy?" Lee Rhodes snorted, throwing the security monitor an absent-minded glance. "I didn't think you took such pleasure in taking maniacs for a walk…"

Ainsely opened the door a fraction, flicking his cigarette-butt out into the squall before slamming it shut again. "You lazy shits down here on the ground floor don't know what those fucking freaks are like when they don't get their daily dose of fresh air. They get fucking weirder than usual. Some spit. Some bite. All of 'em threaten…and we're not allowed to jab 'em or restrain 'em anymore. Gotta use words. Gotta talk. Apparently it's "infringing their human rights" to do it any other way…fucking hippies…"

"What are _you_ doing down here anyway?" Rhodes queried, cocking an eyebrow. "Down amongst us, ground-floor-shits? Shouldn't you be wiping some schizophrenic's ass right now?"

"New doctor is coming in today," Ainsely muttered, checking his clipboard. "I've gotta escort him upstairs. Make sure that he heads straight to the briefing room without any detours. Johnson's orders."

"New doctor?"

A question hung in the air between them.  
Rhodes looked up at Ainsely from where he sat, his eyebrows slowly raising up into a thick crop of copper-coloured hair.  
Asking.  
Ainsley gave the faintest trace of a nod, barely inclining his chin.  
Answering.

This wasn't just _a_ new doctor.  
This was _the_ new doctor.

Rhodes coughed in understanding, breaking their gaze and looking out into the rain with a grimace.  
"Well, I wouldn't trade places with whoever this poor bastard is. That's getting heavier out there…"

Ainsely waited with thawing patience for another ten minutes or so as the storm raged and the winds shrieked through the bars of the outer gates and just when he was about to swear, slouch and slink his way back to his daily duties, the front-entrance door swung shakily open.

A woman stumbled over the threshold, partly skidding on the tiles in a pair of imitation Armani heels.  
Her plum-streaked and red tinged hands scrabbled to find purchase along the sides of the fibre-glass doors, trying to force them shut.  
Sacrificing her black leather briefcase and letting it fall to the floor, she managed to coerce the entrance into closing. She coughed up a mouthful of her own unrestrained, ropey hair, shuddering as the freed tendrils suddenly clung to her slickened neck.  
Gathering herself, she straightened up slowly and pivoted on the spot to face the two, rather high-browed men at her back.

"H-Hello," she spluttered, making the best attempt at a smile that she could manage despite her rapidly running make-up. "I'm here to see Doctor Johnson…if you could point me in his direction…I'd be, uh, I'd be pretty grateful…"

Rhodes was in the process of looking her up and down, eyeing the darkened rat's tails that now formed her hair- all the way down to the splattered black-felt heels on her feet. He made a noise that could have either been a snort of mirth or a cough and nodded towards Ainsely.  
"That's your department, Mike."

"Got an ID card?" the appointed orderly asked the half-drowned woman with unashamed, widened eyes.

"Ah…yes, I do…"  
She stooped, once again amidst Rhode's ambiguous chuckling/coughing, clumsily fumbling around in her briefcase.

Rhodes tilted his head to the side, his lips still curled in amusement.

"So, did you just forget to shower this morning and figured a little run in the rain could do the job for free or-?"

"Well, I had to park around the corner from here. The car-park entrance has a barrier and I don't know the code for it yet…"

"Ah, I see. Too bad for you, I suppose."

After just about five silent minutes of her scrabbling, Ainsely was fast becoming impatient.  
"Just what are you hear to see Johnson about? Visitation of staff isn't allowed outside of lunch-hours."

"Oh…ah, I'm not here to visit," the young woman informed him, wobbling violently in her squatting position and drawing herself back up to full height, laminated card in hand. "I'm here as a member of part-time staff."  
Without missing a beat, Ainsely took the card from her, his eyes instantly zipping down to the area of the facility that she'd be working in.

The woman wiped a hanging clot of mascara from her eye, wincing as she did so and the orderly took that as an opportunity to exchange a quick but knowing look with Rhodes.  
_"Yeah. This is the one, alright." _

She coughed slightly, straightening her sleeves and adding, (seemingly mistaking the men's silence for confusion): "I'm Liu Keaton's new psychiatrist..."

Completely unaware that such an occupation at Smyth's Grove was considered synonymous with the words "corpse-to-be", the woman took her card back from Ainsely and let him lead her upstairs.

"On wet days, you'll wanna take the fucking elevator," he told her gruffly, not bothering to wait for her to stagger up the tiled steps in her heels. "The rain makes'em fucking weird. Even the quiet ones go a little batshit."  
He showed her to the aforementioned lift, pressing the appropriate buttons but not following her into the small compartment.

"Uh…my area of placement is floor number seven…" she stammered, noticing the illuminated figure five on the button panel.

"Yeah but Johnson's office is on the fifth floor. You've gotta fucking check in with him, ain't ya?"

The woman nodded, leaning against the railing behind her and feeling the moisture of her own palms cloud the metal. She felt childish for flinching but it had been quite a while since anyone had spoken to her with such coarse language.

_"__Feels like freshman year," _she couldn't help but think as the doors started to close, only to be stopped sharply by Ainsely's hand.  
The orderly stared at her for a moment, eliciting a quizzical look from woman in return.  
He marked the unmarred glint in her eyes.  
Surrounded by clouds of smudged mascara and streaks of eye-liner, the soft, azure irises were unassuming…unperturbed…innocent, even.  
She hadn't seen enough yet.  
She didn't know enough yet.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him, her tone polite but her voice stilted by confusion.

Ainsely paused for a moment, his tongue roaming his mouth as he considered what he was going to tell her before he simply said: "There's a bathroom at the end of the hall on the fifth floor. You're gonna wanna stop in there to clean yourself up a bit before you go anywhere near Johnson's office…the fucker's a sticker for appearances…"

Before she could offer any kind of gratitude in return for the impromptu "advice", Ainsely allowed the doors to shut and was gone from her line of sight.

Christine McKellan jumped slightly as the elevator whirred to life, starting to move upward.  
She placed a hand over her chest, over the damp, white, cotton of her blouse and tried to steady herself.  
_"Relax Chris, you're not even halfway through this yet…" _

Her eyes found themselves locking on to the metallic doors in front of her, staring at her own blurry reflection as she tried to retain some form of composure.  
_How had she even gotten there?_

As the doors slowly opened, revealing a hallway –partially bleached in the whites of fluorescent lighting, she slowly walked out of the elevator.  
_The phone call had been completely out of the blue. _

She found the bathroom that Ainsely had mentioned and had to do a double-take when she saw the absolutely dire state of the woman in the mirror in front of her.  
_Boyce Reddin had apparently been the one who recommended her to Johnson.  
She hadn't spoken to Reddin in over two years.  
She had no idea why he would have given Johnson her name. _

She hastily rootled through her briefcase for her powder compact, plastic hairbrush and bottle of foundation make-up, taking note of the time on her phone. Technically she wasn't late.  
Technically, she had three more minutes before she had to meet the head of the facility.  
_She wasn't a criminologist and her brushes with abnormal psychology were fairly minimal. Sure, she had worked with troubled kids before but…none of them had ever murdered any of their previous doctors. _

Her face (somewhat) reassembled and her hair brushed into submission once more, McKellan looked into the soap-spattered mirror, giving herself the usual mental pep-talk that she treated herself to before every new job.  
Before every new patient.  
_He promised her that the pay would be good. He had also promised her that her safety would be prioritised.  
How was she supposed to say no? Travis had been particularly insistent that she take the job.  
This was all part of the plan, after all. _

"All part of the plan," McKellan reminded herself aloud, shutting the bathroom door behind her. "This is all part of the plan…"

She had never been stationed at such a large mental health facility before, nor one as prestigious.  
She could only guess that the hallway she currently walked was a reserved area for administrative staff.

McKellan was willing to put money on the notion that this was the area for the highest ranking members of staff.  
You could always tell what degree of residence was in an area by the noise-level.  
The lowest levels of employment made lots of noise.  
Lots of chatter.  
Lots of laughing.  
Lots of shouting.

The highest levels always sat in corridors and offices that were stony silent.  
Why was there any need to chat or to laugh? Humans socialise for the contact of other humans. Human contact leads to self-confidence. Self-confidence leads to tenacity. Tenacity leads to personal gain.  
These ones had gained everything that they needed to gain.

Dr Johnson's office wasn't particularly hard to find.  
Her knuckles had barely grazed the surface of the door when it suddenly swung open, Eustace Johnson's ashen face greeting her on the other side.

"Ah, Dr McKellan, I presume?"

She nodded, offering her hand and shaking his.  
His skin reminded her of thrift shop leather- weather-beaten, wrinkled and cold to the touch.  
His fingertips were also calloused; he'd probably been doing a lot of typing lately.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, at long last."

"The pleasure's all mine. Please come inside. Have a seat. Would you like me to send for coffee? Tea?"

"No…no, thank you. I'm fine."

McKellan desperately tried to hold back a shiver, reminded of the media flurry the last doctor's death had caused. She could only imagine the amount of paperwork that Johnson had been forced to trudge through following the event.  
The death of a staff member could hardly be considered something that could easily be swept under the rug.  
If he had been either very busy or frantic in the last few days, however, his office did not quite betray this fact. Quite to the contrary, the room was both neat and organised and a lot warmer than McKellan would have initially guessed.

"So you've read all the paperwork then? You know what you'll be dealing with?"

"Yes, I've gone through all the files. I've worked with patients who suffer from Dissociative Personality Disorder before. Granted, they've been much younger than the patient in question and their trauma has been a lot less…_physical_, in its manifestations but I don't think that's going to be an issue…if…the safety precautions you mentioned have been implemented."

"The patient will be restrained at all times. The room will be monitored by a live guard with camera surveillance at all times. Help is just the press of a button away." Johnson folded his hands. "I'll also be observing your first three sessions…just as another precaution…" He pushed his spectacles up his nose. "Not every doctor is suited to this type of work and this type of patient, so don't take it _too_ personally if you…for some reason or another…must be dismissed. At the end of the day, it's all for your safety and…as your original contract stated, you will be paid in full, regardless."

McKellan nodded slowly. "Uh…how many sessions in total will I be taking with the patient? Assuming that I'm…suited."

"The standard for all part time staff is seven sessions…and anything after that will be considered surplus and paid for accordingly." Johnson appeared to be searching for something in the drawers of his desk. "Dr McKellan…you are _aware_ that we're working towards a sort of _goal_ with this patient, yes?"

"A goal?" McKellan blinked, sitting back into the seat and racking her brains for any allusions that Reddin may have made to such a thing. "Well…at the end of the day…I know that the priority is always the patient's well-being and restoring Liu Keaton to higher-order functioning is-…"

"Liu Keaton, at this time, is not actually our primary figure of interest," Johnson told her sharply, pulling a sheet of paper forth from the files by his lap. "As unusual as it sounds, Liu's therapy at this point in time is actually part of an ongoing investigation into the motivations of an entirely different figure."

She had already guessed the identity of the individual before his name left Johnson's lips.

"Dr McKellan?" Johnson looked at her over the rim of his glasses. "You've, no doubt, heard of Liu's younger brother Jeffrey Keaton? If you've read Liu's files, you know that the reason he's currently being held in a maximum security prison facility…is the same reason that Liu is currently in our care here in Smyth's Grove."

There were only a small few people in the town Sylton Parkes who _didn't_ know all about the infamous Jeff Keaton and had occurred in the Keaton household on that fateful night.

"So…if the figure of interest is actually Liu's brother…what exactly is the goal that we're working towards with Liu, himself?"

"We've been probing Liu about his brother's motivations for years, ironically only discovering that the older brother has a similar psychosis to the younger- particularly in terms of aggression. Our current hypothesis maintains that there is some form of hereditary psychopathy at play but the extended Keaton family have denied all access to medical records, genetic sampling, family history…and thanks to a team of lawyers, they're virtually untouchable…"

Johnson removed his glasses, polishing them on the lapel of his shirt and speaking as casually as one discussing the outcome of a recent baseball game. "An organisation of interest to us, wishes to identify whether or not Liu is the…" He clicked his tongue against his teeth, briefly musing on his choice of words before speaking again. "…natural killer…that his brother is. If Liu proves to have the same decision-making, reflection and recall priorities as his brother…we may quite possibly have the _best_ case of nature over nurture that the world of psychology has ever seen, at our disposal."

McKellan listened, only partially comprehending what she was being told.  
"S-So…I'm providing therapy sessions to this patient…to Liu…so that you can see how similar he is to…Jeffery?"

"In essence, yes," Johnson said smoothly, placing the sheet of paper out on to his desk and producing a pen from the top pocket of his suit jacket. "You'll do this by presenting him with and facilitating various tasks to study his thought processes…similar to the ones you've used with your previous patients…" His gaze flickered to hers, his hazel eyes briefly holding her denim ones. "And our board here would see it necessary that you attempt to establish a kind of _rapport_ with Liu. Boyce Reddin spoke highly of you in that respect, Dr McKellan. He said that you're good at getting patients to… "open up"?"

McKellan's head was already swimming but she managed to nod dumbly, shrugging and adding in a voice that was a little more breathless than she would have like: "Yeah, I guess I am…if Mr Reddin says so."  
She cursed herself internally for how childish she became whenever slightly flustered.  
Professionalism was difficult enough to feign without drastic slips in the appearance of her maturity.

"And at the end of it all," Johnson declared with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "As you mentioned before, Liu's mental health and its improvements are among our constant motivations behind this research. We view Liu's full recovery as a certain by-product of our investigations into his behavioural similarity to his brother."

_"__They're using Liu as tool to study Jeffery because one is easier to talk to than the other," _McKellan thought, her heart-sinking slightly. _"And I'm only a facilitator for your experiments. A glorified moderator." _

Johnson pushed the silver-cased pen towards McKellan.  
"Mr Keaton is expecting you at eleven but before we go anywhere , I'm going to need to sign something for me. It's just a standard health and safety waiver that we issue all part-time members of staff. Just affirming that you know your rights and responsibilities here, that Smyth's Grove isn't forcing you to do anything against your will, just some legal matters here and there…"

McKellan's eyes traced the page that was placed before her, only barely reading each line of printed text.  
Hardly comprehending a single word of what she was agreeing with, she took the pen into her hand and scrawled out a signature underneath.

Her signature was childish, she thought to herself as she scanned back over the page.  
From the printed loop of the tallest "K" and the wobbly cross of the "t", it was childish.

Johnson smiled faintly, taking the papers up with speed that McKellan would later recall as being a little unsettling.

"Well now that that's out of the way, Dr McKellan. Shall we head down to the main room?"

She followed in his wake, realising very quickly that it was going to take about five little heeled totters from her to keep up with her newest employer's sweeping strides.  
He led her up two flights of stairs, eventually reaching the turn-off to a long, narrow corridor.

It was quite secluded, McKellan quickly noted.  
In fact, without having been shown it- she might have walked straight past it.

The corridor was also virtually empty.  
Again, McKellan could not see nor hear any other employees or patients of the facility.

"The main dormitories are located on the second, third, fourth and ninth floors of the building," Johnson told her aloud, as though he could sense the question what she was about to ask. "Though one or two of our more…_difficult_ patients are housed in separate rooms in the twelfth floor corridor. Though Smyth's Grove no longer uses solitary confinement techniques, this is the closest thing that we have to that kind of treatment…"

The walls of the corridor were sparsely decorated, white and bare, with almost no adorning furnishings aside from the occasional framed reminder of what floor you were on.

"Your key-card will open any of these doors and each time you use one of the doors here, where and when you used the card will be logged on to our main system," Johnson explained as he swiped his own laminated card across a nearby door handle, an illuminating green light indicating its unlocking. "This is the door that you'll be heading up to every morning. Of course you're welcome to visit the staff canteen on the first floor whenever you'd like but tea and lunch can be ordered up to this lounge too."

He beckoned for her to follow him into a large and surprisingly comfy room with a few couches, tables, a countertop, television and entertainment console.  
He directed her to look at a set of flat panel screens on the far wall. "That's where myself and two of the senior practitioners will be monitoring your sessions."

McKellan nodded, swallowing back loudly.  
Or at least it must have been a particularly loud swallow because Johnson immediately turned to her with a very forcibly reassuring smile. "It's mainly for your safety. Don't worry. No one is judging your techniques…trust me when I say that you wouldn't be here if your presence wasn't approved. Though, as I said before, this position is not for everyone so any decisions that are made regarding your employment are made for your benefit, Doctor McKellan…"

She tucked a piece of damp hair behind her ear, coercing her own lips into a tightly-pressed smile. "I'm absolutely certain of that, Doctor Johnson."

It was practitioners' etiquette to use formal titles upon first meeting- as a kind of mutual acknowledgment of educational achievement- but McKellan had still never felt so awkward in her entire life.  
Try as she might, even when Johnson was ushering her to a sofa, offering to bring her tea and constantly reassuring her that there was nothing to be anxious about- the man radiated a kind of aura that McKellan's better judgement could not allow herself to trust.

Sitting back against the leather of the couch, McKellan's eyes found a clock on the wall.  
She watched every second tick by with a growing lump in her throat, her fingers constantly running along the seam of her briefcase.

_Would it look unprofessional to go through her notes just one more time? _

She had memorised them over the last two weeks, spending countless nights awake until the early hours of the morning listening to the tapes of previous sessions. She had planned out this first session numerous times, consulting virtually every other professional source that she could access.

Johnson left her alone, telling her that he needed to make a few last minute arrangements.

With nothing but her thoughts to keep her company, McKellan could feel the nerves that she had tried so hard to suppress starting to come forth from the furthest recesses of her mind.  
Warbling fears, writhing and waning, started to crawl from the pit of her stomach, up through her throat and they festered in her barren-dry mouth…

She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees and her forehead resting upon her hands.  
Her thoughts began to dart and discourse like distant voices.  
_"It's almost eleven. In less than five minutes, I'll be sitting in a room with him…Are they going to bring him in here? Is this where the session is going to be? No, it can't be. The seats are too comfy…I'd be fit to fall asleep in here…and why would they need these screens to watch me on, if I was going to be in here with them? Is he already in here somewhere? Is Johnson watching me right now?"_

"You look like you could use a tea, sweetie. Maybe of the Long Island variety?"

McKellan looked up with a start, to see a tall, rather portly man standing over her. He wore an oversized mint-green t-shirt and a bemused smile.

"That was a joke, by the way," he added quickly, winking. "Alcohol on the premises is strictly banned…" He pretended to look around, lowering his voice. "Unless you know all the right people…"  
He chuckled.  
His voice was nothing short of melodic and it made her want to smile as widely as him.

"Well hopefully I'll get to know some of them soon," McKellan said with a shrug, sitting up slightly. She couldn't help but find the quaver in her own voice embarrassing.

"You're the new doctor, right? You from around here? You sound kinda upper-east side…"

"Yeah, guilty as charged on all accounts. I was actually born and raised here in Sylton but both my parents are from Massachusetts originally…"

"I'm Jarrod," the man told her, handing her a small laminated card from his pocket. "I'm one of the orderlies here. I work the third and twelfth floor. Doctor Johnson sent me up here to give you your staff card and also to give you your safety briefing. So, if you could follow me?"

McKellan nodded and stood up, smoothing out the folds of her skirt and taking up her briefcase.  
"Ah…it's nice to talk to a friendly face and it's certainly nice to meet you, Jarrod…I'm-…"

"Sorry but I, uh, I don't wanna know," Jarrod said quickly, walking over to a door near the screens at the far end of the room that McKellan wouldn't have noticed at all if he hadn't drawn her attention to it. "I'm not trying to be rude, sweetie. It's just a policy I have with the new doctors…" He pushed the door open and gestured for her to walk ahead of him. "I don't learn names unless they're still here after the first three sessions. Makes me less sentimental, y'know? When they leave…"

McKellan tried to ignore the rather grim note that entered his voice as he walked in her shadow. The door led to another narrow corridor. Like the one before, it was near-completely devoid of décor.  
Unlike the one before, however, it was only lit by two flickering ceiling lights, shadows draped across the hall and stretching down to the single wooden door at the end.

"Damn electricity. The storm last week managed to fry a few of the circuits in here so don't be surprised if some of the lights get a little funny from time to time. Real atmospheric mood lighting, huh?"

"I've got to agree with you there…it's looking like the bad weather isn't going to let up either. Last night's forecast pretty much said to expect nothing but rain for the rest of the week…maybe some thunder and lightning too, around Thursday."

"Ugh…that's the last thing I need. One of my kids at home hates lightning. She'll be up crying again and daddy and mommy aren't going to get a wink of sleep…"

"Tell her that the angels are bowling…"

"Bowling? Huh?"

"That's what my older sister used to tell me whenever there was lightning out. That it was just the angels in Heaven, having their bi-annual bowling tournament. I used to be afraid of stormy weather too." McKellan shrugged, suddenly aware that her hands had slipped into her pockets and hastily moving them to her sides. "Now whenever there's a thunder storm, I just start laughing hysterically at the sound of thunder because I can still hear my sister shouting "strike!" at the top of her lungs…"

Jarrod chuckled. "That's pretty cute…"

"Cute?" McKellan cocked an eyebrow. "My friends think that I'm demented. Lightning flashes, they're all hiding behind the sofa and I'm hugging my sides trying not to fall over laughing…are you always this nice to all of the new doctors when you're talking to them?"

"Just the ones that decide to talk back to me…and maybe the interesting ones."

"I'm flattered that I'm interesting enough to keep talking to, then."

"So, if you don't mind me saying," Jarrod said slowly, pausing at the door. "You seem pretty young to me for a job like this. Like, how old are you? I mean, don't take that the wrong way…it's just for the last few years or so, I've been bring big-wigs of forty to fifty down this hall…you're the first young-looking face…and the first lady actually…not that there's anything wrong with that…it's just new to me…" He swiped the card across the door handle and opened it, his tongue briefly swiping across his front teeth. "And I'm kinda curious about the strange and new. You kinda have to, to work here."

McKellan shook her head, smiling up at him. "I can imagine so. Well, I'm not offended. I actually get that a lot. I'm not really _that_ young though…not really…I mean, I'm twenty seven but that's not odd in this field. I qualified about two years ago…I've been told that it's kinda rare to get your doctorate in your mid-twenties but it's not impossible. You've just got to have the right opportunities and the right drive, I guess."

"Uh-huh…"

He led her into an office-like room with no windows.  
At the head of the room was a desk, set with a leather-lined seat while a long, velvet lined comforter was pushed against the wall at the far side.

"This is the therapy room. Usually, Liu will be waiting for you in here when you arrive for your sessions. Things are just moving a little slower than usual this morning…change-overs with staff because of the weather and all…"

Jarrod tapped the edge of the desk. "This is your seat and as I'm sure you've guessed, the other one down there is Liu's. He'll be sitting down there…in restraints…" The man gave a briefly distasteful snort, casting his eyes upward before drawing her attention to the centre of the room. "See that line there? The white line in the carpet? Goes from one side of the room to the other. Wall to wall. This is your side of the room. That is his side of the room. If either of you cross over to the wrong side, an orderly will be summoned straight away, no questions asked. Just a heads up…" Jarrod pointed to a small, circular, black device on the wall by the door. "You'll be watched from that camera there. Doctor Johnson probably already told you that the first two or three sessions are watched by a surveillance team. Everything else gets looked at by a security guard. Image-only feedback so if there's any trouble, you need to make it clear as day that you need help 'cause he won't hear you shouting."

_"__Or screaming," _McKellan thought, feeling queasy as Jarrod showed her to the backside of the desk, guiding her to run her hand along the rim.

"You've got two panic buttons. Feel 'em? One here…and one _here_. The slightest touch on either of those and help will come running. You shouldn't need it though. Like I said, Liu will be restrained..." His eyes slid sideways.

"Sorry, uh…I was wondering about that, actually. When you and Doctor Johnson say _restrained_…do you mean that he'll be…cuffed or-?"

"We legally can't use the term "strait jacket" but effectively for his safety and for yours, Liu's going to have his arms kept secured to the lounge-seat. Even if for some reason, you do have to walk over to his side of the room, he's not going to be able to get anywhere near you…" Jarrod sighed. "I've worked in this business for fifteen years and I can say with experience that this isn't supposed to be the place where restraints are used…" He shot a glance over at the camera. "This isn't exactly supposed to be a spectator sport either…but Liu's really made his bed…and I guess now he has to sleep in it."

"You've worked with Liu before?" McKellan guessed aloud, sitting down at the desk, putting her briefcase aside.

"Mhmm. I have. I've been one of his orderlies for the last three years…and let me tell you, that kid alone? He wouldn't hurt a fly. Troubled? Sure. He's nervous all the time. Heartbroken, even. Kills you inside to look at him. He's like living proof that life isn't damn fair…" Jarrod looked to her with a kind of earnest that she had to admire. "…and it really wasn't to him." His features suddenly took on a shadowed countenance. "But that other one…_Sully_…you know about_ him_, right?"

McKellan nodded, clasping her hands together to stop them from quivering as she spoke. "I've listened to the tapes of his past sessions …I've read all the files too…Dissociative Identity Disorder is one of the most bizarre of all conditions, I mean…I…I really wouldn't have guessed that it's even the same person on the track-…"

"It_ isn't_ the same person," Jarrod told her, shaking his head. "They're different as night and day…and Sully used to be really hard to draw out. I could go weeks, months…without seeing him. Now, whenever Liu feels the slightest bit upset, scared, angry…out pops Sully to his _rescue_…" He looked to her, his brown eyes full of seriousness. "Watch it around him. Don't push him. Don't test him. That's how most of the others…"

His voice trailed off and McKellan didn't need him to finish the sentence.  
Truthfully, she didn't want him to.

According to her wrist watch, it was just turning eleven when Jarrod was about to leave.  
He froze at the door for a moment, turning back to face her.

His voice was gravelly when he spoke, quite a bit lower than before.

"You're easier to talk to than the other doctors, y'know?"

McKellan shifted in her seat, a small smile flickering to her lips. "I guess that's because I'm new to this. It's easier to be new when you've got people who aren't new on your side. I've got to be friendly and ready to listen…or at least that's what my mom always said. Worked in kindergarten anyway…"

Jarrod did not smile in return.  
If anything, his brow grew quite heavy with apparent concern.

"What's your speciality? As a doctor, I mean. Like what kind of work do you do that got you brought in here?"

Honestly speaking, McKellan felt as though by answering this question aloud, she was reminding _herself_ of why exactly she had gotten this position.

"I mainly specialise in adolescent psychosis and PTSD in relation to family tragedy. I've had four similar patients to Liu before this- all with survivor's guilt and one with the beginnings of manic depression. Even though Liu is now technically and legally an adult, Doctor Johnson thinks that his mental growth may have been stunted by a lack of social contact while he was interned here so following this hypothesis-…"

"Got any books on the market?"

The abrupt question took her by surprise but she answered anyway.

"…No. Well, not yet. I mean I've always thought about-…"

"Got any family in this area? Or in law? In finance?"

"No, but I can't see why that-…"

"Ever been on television? Ever worked anywhere high-profile like this before? Ever headed some ground-breaking study?"

"I…no. No, I haven't but again, I don't really understand wh-…"

"Can I…be frank with you, Doctor?"

Doctor.  
_Not "sweetie."  
Doctor. _

"Y-yes…Jarrod…I'd really rather that you were. Your experience is invaluable to me, naturally."

Once again, she offered a smile that he did not choose to return.

"You're not here because of any of that experience you have. You're here because you're expendable."

"…come again?"

"The uppers need to show some kind of progress but if they lose any more of their golden boys, they're going to be in hot water. Most of the professionals are turning them down and they need to find a doctor who can take Liu Keaton on and give them the results that they want…until they find that doctor, you are their filler. A substitute. An _expendable_ substitute. You'll keep everyone distracted, make it look like they're not biding their time, give Liu a reason not to break his morning routines…but at the end of the day…you're…not really anybody here. You're…nobody. You're not even full-time staff…"

McKellan opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again, realising that she did not have anything to say in response. Try as she might, her voice seemed to have completely left her.

"I'm saying this because you seem like a really nice girl," Jarrod went on, holding up his hands. "And I like you. I really do…but someone has to say it to you. You're expendable and Johnson knows it…and he'll use that to his advantage…you're as much of a test subject here as Liu is…" He squirmed uncomfortably, shaking his head as he pulled the door open to leave. "I wasn't going to say it to you. I told myself I wasn't going to say it to you…but…you don't seem like the sort that deserves to be thrown to the sharks without knowing what she's really up against…"

McKellan looked downward.  
She didn't see Jarrod leave but she _did_ hear what had to say as he left the room.

"Just resign. The money doesn't mean shit. Just walk out while you've still got the chance…"

If Christine McKellan had wanted to hear someone say something to her before undergoing what she was about to, _that_ was certainly not it.

_Expendable? _

Was that it?  
Was that why Johnson really wanted her there?  
The worst part was that in an utterly perverse way, it made complete sense to her. In fact, what Jarrod had said- morbid, crude and upsetting at it was- successfully answered every question that had been pervading her mind since she had arrived at Smyth's Grove.

She could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage, almost threatening to break the bone and her breath was starting to restrict itself to short, sharp gasps as her eyes began to sting.

_"__No. No. No. No tears. Jarrod was friendly and maybe he's seen some bad things happen here before…but you've trained for this. Reddin wouldn't have sent you here if he didn't think that you ready for this. His reputation is as much on the line as yours is. Pull yourself together. That orderly meant well but don't let him infantalise you…he doesn't know you…" _

She busied herself by pulling her notes from her briefcase and attempting to read through them one last time.  
Her fingers delicately pulled the transcript of Liu's first session with Doctor C. Taylor from the bundle.

_"__You have to do this. This is part of the plan."_

Taylor had lasted less than fifteen minutes with him.  
_And he was supposedly an expert.  
_She was supposed to last forty minutes with him.  
_He wasn't restrained when Taylor was talking to him.  
_Her mind drifted back to the first time that she'd listened to the tape of that session.  
_Taylor had his skull caved in with a Newton's Cradle.  
_Apparently Doctor Taylor had been eager to talk to Sully again and had gotten too close to Liu in his efforts.  
_According to the newspaper report, the post-mortem officers had to use dental records to legally identify Taylor as his face was beyond recognition following the attack. _

McKellan noted with a mixture of relief and disdain that the desk in front of her was completely bare.

She reviewed the transcript, trying to stick to her training, to focus on what the triggers for Liu's second personality were and to make sure nothing in her repertoire would provoke him.

But as the distant echoes of footsteps in the corridor began to near, soon accompanied by an undertone of metallic clinking, McKellan's eyes could only find one line of dialogue on the page.  
The final printed line of text.

And as she read it and as the door of the room slowly opened, McKellan could hear the voice from the tape ringing in her ears. That voice. _His _voice.  
The voice that brought a cold sweat to her brow and a tremble to her lower lip.

**_"_****_Be careful what you wish for, Doc…" _**


	2. The Patient

**Part Two: The Patient**

The door to the room opened fully and Johnson led a clustered, group of burly orderlies inside.  
All of their attention seemed to be focused on a single figure, bundled in the centre of their unruly huddle.

McKellan's eyes shot downwards to the page in front of her, her hands frantically searching for a pen and her prepared paperwork.

"So then, Mr Keaton," Johnson orated loudly, almost with the air of an exasperated school principal. "This is your new psychiatrist, Doctor McKellan…as you've been made aware, the board has opted to continue with these therapy sessions despite past…_incidents_. Aren't you lucky?"

Johnson's hand on the table brought McKellan's attention upwards again.

"Jarrod Manson gave you all of the safety information?"

"Uh…yes, Doctor Johnson…"

"And you understood every word of it?"

"Yes…I did…"

"Good. We'll be watching from outside." He patted her wrist, his fingers lightly skimming the material of her sleeve before he added quietly. "Best of luck, Christine."

McKellan looked up for the first time, just as the white hem of Johnson's jacket disappeared behind the closing door.

Her eyes hesitantly lifted to analyse the figure sitting, solitary, at the far end of the room.

He sat upon the comforter, facing away from her and in appearance, staring at the plain-plaster wall at his back.  
Her patient was clad in an alabaster white tunic and trousers, baggy enough to hide every aspect of his form and figure- aside from the fact that he was quite tall in stature.  
There was a hood on the back of the modest gown that the patient had chosen to pull up slightly.  
A loose crop of tawny brown hair sprouted from the side of the hood and the skin of his forearms and ankles- the only visible flesh on his body- was milky and marred by the telling perse lines of swollen veins.

For a moment, she waited.  
She pressed her lips together, dampening them slightly and folded her hand on the desk.  
Silence set in as she gave her patient a chance to turn to face her.

After about a minute of complete quietness passed, McKellan rose from her seat with slightly tremulous legs and cleared her throat.

"Hello there, Liu. Like Doctor Johnson said, my name is Doctor McKellan and I'll be your sit-in psychiatrist for the next few days…"

His head lifted slightly at the sound of her voice, instantly reacting to the sound but aside from a slight roll of his shoulders, he made no move to turn around to face her.  
Or to offer any kind of response.

McKellan raised her voice slightly. "Is that alright with you, Liu?"

"Do I have a choice in the matter, Doctor?"  
His voice was softer than McKellan had anticipated, slightly waning in nature and much deeper than the voice she had heard on the first session tape.  
Then again, that was more than three years ago and Liu had only been sixteen then.

_Establish a rapport with the patient.  
That's what he said. _

"I suppose not," she responded. "But I think it's better for both of us if we establish that when we start these sessions, we both want to be here. I really can't help you if you don't let me…" Liu gave no immediate signs of a desire to respond so McKellan continued. "I'd also like you to know that even though I'll have a few little tasks and reflections for us to work through…you can talk about anything you'd like here…if you have anything you'd like to tell me or anything you'd like to talk or vent about…or even any questions…it's what I'm here for…"

"I have a question for you, Doctor."

McKellan's heart leapt into her throat. "Yes, Liu?"

"Why…why haven't you asked me to turn around yet? Most doctors prefer me to face them."

"If you're more comfortable not facing front, that's fine with me. I'm happy with whatever you're happy with," she told him. "God knows, I'd get sick of having to stare at my face any long period of time anyway…"  
She tried to laugh a little.  
Liu didn't laugh.  
Or turn around.  
Or say anything in response.

McKellan cleared her throat again.  
"So, yes. I want you to feel that you can trust me…"

Liu made a noise akin to a snort of mirth.  
"Trust you? Not to be impertinent or anything, Doctor…but we've only just met. How do you expect to earn my trust so quickly?"

"I …I don't." McKellan replied quickly, coming to walk in front of the desk as her confidence grew. "I just want you to know that you _can_ trust me, if you feel you _need_ to. It's unfair to expect a person to simply place their trust in anyone who asks. I agree with you on that. While I don't expect your immediate trust though, I do however expect you to be honest with me during these sessions…"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Doctor, but that seems as equal a tall order as having to place all my trust in a stranger." There was a slight wheeze underscoring his voice.  
McKellan couldn't tell if it was laughter she could hear or contempt.  
Either way, her discourse strategy was working swimmingly.

He was talking to her in opinionated dialogue.  
In psychiatric terms, this was an early achievement.

"Maybe you're right. You've made a fair point. That's why I'm going to offer you an agreement of sorts. I agree to be completely honest with you during these sessions, if you agree to be completely honest with me…"

"Completely honest?"

"Yes. You don't have to agree but I'd like you to consider the offer."

"And you'll be completely honest with me?"

"Certainly. Do we have an agreement?"

"…yes." His voice was almost amused. "We do. I'd shake on it but…well…"

He lifted his hands from where he sat, the chain-links around his wrists pulling taut, showing that he was rather attached to the comforter.  
McKellan couldn't help but giggle at the gesture.

**"****Something funny about that, Doctor?" **

Her breath halted in her throat and a sudden coldness shot through her chest.  
She knew that voice.

"No," McKellan replied immediately, swallowing and trying to keep a confident stature. "Well…actually, I did…but only because I thought you were making a joke…"

**"****Do you always laugh at the harsh ways that some patients are treated, Doctor?" **

"Of course not. I…I…just thought that you wanted me to laugh…"

"**Liu thinks that it's fun to mock our ordeal sometimes but I disagree. Why should we be happy about being chained like an animal? About being confined? This is no way to treat a human being…" **

"From my understanding, you're only being restrained for your own safety…and for my safety too. If there was a threat of harm to either of us, it would make this kind of therapy very difficult," McKellan answered, slowly and carefully, trying to busy herself by taking a note. "…I'm not…talking to _Liu_ right now, am I?" She tried to keep her voice as slow and as even as possible. "I'm speaking to…Sully…is that right?"

**"****Very good, Doctor. You've read all the case files then…you know all about me and all about my history with all the other doctors who came trotting through that door before you...? I suppose Doctor Johnson warned you all about me too." **

McKellan's eyes briefly slipped sideways to the camera.  
That comment reminded her that Johnson was actually watching this session right now; she couldn't look intimidated. Even if she couldn't see his bespectacled eyes, she could feel the weight of his gaze on her.  
Now was the time to show that she wasn't "expendable."

"I was told that Liu's safety is your highest priority. I think that's a very positive thing to hear because as Liu is my patient now, his safety and comfort is my top priority too…I think we should work together to make sure that Liu feels safe during these sessions…so…if I say or do anything that might upset Liu- like I did just there- you let me know, ok?"

**"****Just remember to keep your promise, Doctor, and be honest with Liu and I. I don't like when promises are broken. Sometimes when promises are broken, there have to be ****_repercussions_**** to make sure that they're not broken again…" **

"And how does Liu feel about promises to him being broken? Does he take it as seriously as you do, Sully?"

**"****Liu…he…**I …j-just don't like feeling as though someone has abused my trust in them…that's why I don't give it away so…so easily…anymore…" His voice faltered and died slightly, somewhere in his lower windpipe.

"That's fine, Liu. That's perfectly understandable," McKellan assured him, nodding to herself as she scribbled another short-hand note on to her page.

"You…you heard him speak right now…didn't you?" Liu hunched his shoulders slightly, the knobs of his spine emphasised by the hanging cloths of the tunic. "You heard…Sully…?"

McKellan nodded, despite knowing that he couldn't see her face.  
"Yes…yes, I did, Liu." Daring herself to be brave and eager to prove her tenacity to her employers, she placed the pen down on the table and spoke again. "Liu…when did you first…meet Sully, exactly?"

"Can we _please_ not talk about Sully?!"  
His response was immediate, his voice was far too breathy and his tone was overwrought with desperation.  
Almost as though he were close to tears.  
Teetering on the edge of a precipice and far too aware of the fall that awaited him.

Her own heart instantly pierced by the unexpected display of vulnerability, McKellan was fast to reassure him. "It's alright, Liu. We don't have to talk about Sully if you don't want to…"

She sucked in a breath through her teeth and deciding that rapport with him was a more favourable outcome than deepening the conversational topics, she added. "I said earlier that you can talk to me about anything that you like. Even though we're going to be honest with each other, if there's something that's seriously making you uncomfortable…you also don't have to talk to me about it…"

"Thank you, Doctor…"

McKellan gave her notes a quick check, consulting what she had planned for this session and mentally dismissing anything that had been rendered risky or useless in one of her usual mental rituals.

_Sometimes the questions that we ask are more telling than the answers that we give. _

"Mhmm…so I have nothing very heavy planned for this session in terms of reflective exercises…but I do have a suggestion as to how we can get to know each other a little better. I want these sessions to feel like conversations rather than just one person talking and the other listening. Have you ever played the Three Questions Game with any of your other therapists?"

"No...not to my recollection…"  
His tone was an odd mixture of slightly interested and mildly bored.  
McKellan always took that as a challenge with all of her other patients.

"Good!" McKellan sat back against the edge of the desk, relieving some of the stress on the balls of her feet. "That means that we can start with the Beginner's version of the game. Basically we each take turns asking the other questions. We get three questions each to ask. When you're answering a question, you're not allowed to take tangents- you must only answer the question that you're asked and you're also not allowed to ask the other person a question of your own until you've given them a satisfactory answer. If the answering player is silent for longer than ten seconds or cannot answer the question, the other player wins automatically…does that sound ok?"

"I…yes, I suppose that sounds fine…but…what are the questions supposed to be about? Like what kind of questions are we supposed to be asking?"

"Well, the possibilities are limitless. You can ask the other person any question you'd like. Though, usually, just to make it a little more challenging, both players are allowed to introduce a limitations rule at the start of the game. So we could say "no questions about childhood" or "no questions about movies" or something like that…" She put aside her note-pad. "Do you want to introduce a rule to start out with?"

"No questions about Sully."  
His reply was sharp, fast and above all, a response that McKellan had expected.  
Suddenly she was glad that he hadn't turned around: he couldn't see the wide, triumphant smile on her face.

"That's fine by me, Liu," she told him. "My rule is going to be: no questions about family…is that alright with you?"

"Yes…that's fine with me…," he spoke slowly and with carefully suppressed intrigue, though McKellan could practically hear the budding smile in his voice when he added. "Though, I have to warn you. I'm not very good at this kind of thing, Doctor..."

"Well, this is your lucky day, Liu, because no answer here can be the wrong one…do you want to go first or should I?"

The young man shrugged. "I believe that common courtesy dictates that the lady goes first?"

"Alright then," McKellan began. "What was your favourite game to play during recess in kindergarten?"

Liu let out a long exhale, stretching out his neck- presumably unintentional in his teasing of McKellan with the sight of a little more of his hair. "Kindergarten? That's a long time ago. Hmm…I guess I was always quite the fan of the game "What Time is it, Mr Wolf?". Or at least, that's one of the few games that I can recall actually playing…"

"I think I remember that one…that's the one where you have to creep up behind the person who's the Wolf...and then when you get too close, they have to chase you…"

"That's right, Doctor."

"I don't think I really liked that game very much. I always got caught…I'm not much of a runner…"

"When did you realise that, Doctor? That you weren't much of a runner?"

"Is that your question to me?"

"Sure."

McKellan let out a long sigh, smiling faintly as a memory seeped from her temples.  
"It was probably during the Summer of '98, searching for Big Foot in Redwood Forest. We set up our base-camp somewhere near the old well but whenever we went on our expeditions, I was never fast enough to keep up with the other kids."

Liu could not suppress a low chuckle.  
It was amusement that the laughter heralded: not mocking.

"Searching for BigFoot? Really, Doctor?"

"I was nine! You're allowed to want an adventure when you're nine. Nothing wrong with it now, either. Don't you believe in BigFoot, Liu?"

"Well, whether I do or whether I don't- I don't think you're going to find any sasquatches running around Redwood. If I remember right, it's a bit small for that. Surely someone would have found Big Foot long before you and your…_expedition_?"

"Ah but sometimes children are good at finding things that adults can't. Then again, maybe you're right. I doubt Big Foot would have hung around Redwood very long anyway…not enough entertainment for the discerning bipedal mammal…right, who's turn is it? Mine?"

"No, it's mine, I believe."

"You just asked me when I decided that I was a bad runner."

"And you asked me if I believed in Big Foot or not."

McKellan pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows- outwardly stumped but inwardly delighting that she was making some form of progress.

"Alright then, Liu," she conceded. "My mistake. Your turn to ask."

He placed his hands behind himself, leaning backwards on the lounge seat as he apparently mulled his thoughts around.

_"__This can't be right," _McKellan thought, starting to feel unease creep over her. _"I shouldn't be this confident right now. This shouldn't be so easy. He seems so…normal…"  
_Jarrod's words briefly flitted through her mind. _"Then again…this is Liu…not Sully…" _

"Do you believe in fairies?"

"P-Pardon?" McKellan stammered, jerked from her thoughts and slightly taken aback by the questions.

"Do you," Liu repeated, his voice slow but polite in tone. "Believe in fairies?"

McKellan took up her pen to make a note but then paused, a surprise smile starting to stretch across her lips as she put the pen back down again.

"That's a tricky question. You see, if I say no…a fairy is going to die because of me."

Liu's head dropped briefly, shaking but she could hear the smile in his voice again. "You've read Peter Pan, Doctor."

"The book and the play," McKellan confirmed. "I read both during Senior Year…loved Barrie's work so much that I still have the copy of the novel that I took to University with me. You must have read it too, then?"

"The Grove's library has a copy of the novel. I've been taking it out and putting it back in again over the last few years…it's actually a favourite of mine…" His voice began to grow quiet again, a kind of numb despair ghosting the words that he said. "It's one of the few good ones. We're not allowed to have too much fiction. Apparently, it puts _ideas_ into our heads…and the therapy staff don't like _ideas_…"

His tone was dropping quickly, alarming the doctor.  
Trying to salvage the positive nature of the conversation, she hastily asked one of the routine questions in her notes.

"So, my turn then? When…uh…hmm…when did you stop believing in Santa Claus?"

The barest sliver of an uncomfortable silence settled between them like a snowflake, fallen to earth.

"When did I-? Mmm…" Liu leaned forward as he spoke, resting his elbows upon his knees. "When did I _stop_ believing? Maybe when I was ten, for sure? Eleven maybe? Ah! No…no, no, no….it was when I was ten. Definitely." He gave a small chortle. "Hmph. I remember on Christmas Eve that year…I was hiding behind the couch in the living room…I had a camcorder." His tone lightened, becoming almost airy. Each syllable an "Every year dad used to dress up in these big boots and make foot prints across the floorboards near the tree for us to find but after a few years, we got suspicious so we came up with this plan to catch him in the act. The whole thing was J-…"

_No.  
You should have stopped him, McKellan. _

"Liu?"

"It…it…w-was him…h-he and I…we…we decided to…"

His voice was choked, his windpipe apparently bound by the emotion that was rapidly crashing over him.

"Liu…we don't have to talk about it if-…"

"It was…" She heard him sniff, sucking back and swallowing and suddenly something in her chest was jolting, burning intensely. "It was my brother and…and I…w-we hid…yes, we hid and…we…we…s-surprised him…"

The young man was breathing heavily now.  
The doctor couldn't tell if he was crying or not but his shoulders were heaving, mirroring the mounting anxiety that surged through his slender frame.

McKellan straightened up, her spine rigid and her fingers tense around the rim of the table, white-knuckled.

His body suddenly seized and Liu was completely still, sitting bolt upright.  
Like a marionette puppet pulled by his master.

Now, he was quiet.  
Now, he was far too quiet for her liking.

"Liu? Are you feeling al-…"

"I…I'm fine…I'm sorry….I just…it's…it's…**it's Liu's turn to ask a question now, isn't it, Doctor?" **

The sound of that voice set McKellan's fingertips skimming along the edge of the table top.  
_Where is that panic button?  
I'm not going to press it.  
I just need to know where it is. _

She struggled to take a breath, suddenly feeling as though her lungs were clamped with an iron corset.

"Yes, yes it is…it's Liu's turn now…so let's let Liu ask a question then, Sully."

The figure on the lounge-chair was shuddering again, his body trembling from the top of his head, downward.  
His voice was soft but slightly hoarse, thick with a kind of fear that McKellan herself, had never heard before.

Not from her most anxious of patients.  
Not from her loved ones in their most fearful moments.  
Not from her own throat in the throes of her own nightmares.

Not from any human being that she had ever encountered before.

"Doctor McKellan…do you believe in monsters?"

She could have let the question simmer and stew but opting to avoid another tense silence that might provoke her thoughts any further, she simply responded honestly but quietly:  
"I…I believe that people can create monsters…real or not…"

**"****Have you ever created a monster before, Doctor?" **

McKellan swallowed faintly, the thoughts of Johnson watching her on camera suddenly evaporating from her mind, instantly replaced with the uncontrollable desire to run from the room.

"This is the Three Questions Game…we've both already asked all of our questions…"

**"****No, no, no…you and Liu have already asked all of your little questions. Now I want a turn…" **

To McKellan's sudden shock, the young man upon the lounge seat suddenly shifted, turning around to face her. He moved slowly, his limbs loose in his shackles like that of a ragdoll and he only drew himself back to full height when he was completely at her fore, staring her in the face.

**"…****and besides, I thought we agreed to be honest with each other at the start of this session?" **

Slowly, he lifted his head to meet her eyes.  
Irises of the deepest green that the young doctor had ever seen, bore forth from sunken clouds of grey.  
His face was finely sculpted but with flesh of an ashen pallor and marring this flesh were faded yet grotesque lines of burnt plum and encrusted yellow.  
The abused scar-tissue stretched across the bridge of his nose and protruded from either corner of his mouth, creating a macabre Glasgow Smile.

For a brief second, all she could do was stare at her patient.  
He, in turn, stared back at her.

It struck her, very briefly, that this was not only the first time that she was looking upon him but also the first time that he was looking upon her.  
For the eclipsed eternity that they stared…his eyes never left hers.  
Those verdant orbs held her.  
They held her, irrevocably.

Finally, the young man spoke again.

**"****Are you afraid of us, Doctor?" **He chuckled wheezily. **"Please try to be professional here; there's no need to be so scared. Here, I'll let you in on a little secret that might make you feel better…" **  
The patient grinned and leaned forward, the shadows on his face growing. **"Liu once created a monster…" **

McKellan forced herself to put on a brave face and to speak, folding her arms beneath her chest.  
"Oh? That's interesting information to know. What kind of monster was it?"

**"****The clever kind, I'm afraid…" **her patient returned, chortling to himself before adding. **"And Doctor! Do you know where Liu's monster is, right now?" **

"I…I'm afraid I don't understand the question…"

**"****Do…you…know…where…Liu's…monster…is…now?" **

"No…I…I don't suppose I do."

Sully sat back, smirking triumphantly, his hands gripping the restraints and tugging on them, his eyes growing wide as his quavering voice allowed him one, excited whisper.

**"****_Neither does he." _**


	3. The Fiancée

_Christine McKellan's parents had a relationship that outside commentators called "ground-breaking" or "miraculous."  
Some simply resorted to the mundane phrase "unlikely."  
Whatever their choice of words, Mr and Mrs McKellan were not two individuals that one would instantly pair together. _

_Mrs McKellan was a spiritualist, expressing any form of religious faith through a set of stones, a deck of cards, scented candles and some vague belief in an ability to see omens in just about anything.  
_

_Mr McKellan had been raised under the duress of a strict Catholic upbringing. His four children all attended Catholic school and church every Sunday. He prayed a rosary before going to sleep and anointed his thumbs and forehead with Holy water before leaving for work each morning. _

_Their marriage was- at the very least- unexpected, their shared understanding of each other and household harmony, even moreso.  
But what a lot of people viewed as a romantic display of modern tolerance…only very few saw it for what it really was.  
_

_It was the very weight of discord.  
Cast over a household, threatening to break.  
Like finely spun threads.  
Like delicate porcelain.  
_

_Like a pregnant cloud.  
Threatening to rain out a storm. _

Sully was laughing hysterically now.

McKellan leaned back against the table, her breath stilted and heavy in her lungs. It was only when her knuckles started to ache that the doctor realised that she was gripping the edge of the table like a vice.  
Like a life-line.

The young man was restrained- slender within his bindings and quivering at the shoulders- but he radiated power.  
His eyes were alight with the cold, verdant electricity of one who had journeyed to the edge, stepped into the void, tasted the dark and the returned just to tell the tale.

And under those eyes, she was the one who was obliged to listen

McKellan continued to lean back against the desk behind her, lips pressed delicately together as she mused upon how to accept what she had just heard.  
Her palms pressed tightly against the desk at her back served as the only support she could afford to keep her shoulders from shaking beneath the confines of her suit.

Travis had insisted that she buy one in a bigger size than she'd usually take.  
He said that it was a trick that most psychiatrists used to appear more svelte, slightly less outgoing and thus, more approachable.

She had protested at the time but at that very moment, McKellan was prepared to get down on her knees and do whatever she had to, to thank whatever deity necessary for the way that the coat camouflaged her evident fear.

Unfortunately now, Liu…or rather, _Sully's_ face was locked firmly on her form, studying her every move and bringing heat to her face and a chill to her palms.

"**Lost for words, Doctor?" **the same guttural, grating voice from before taunted her, the laughter finally subsiding. **"You're awfully quiet." **

McKellan coughed, forcing herself to start speaking again as her eyes briefly flicked to the camera that surveyed her before back to Sully's verdant glower.  
"I'm simply unsure as how to…interpret what you've just told me."

"**Liu created a monster," **Sully repeated simply. **"And he doesn't know where the monster is. I don't know what's so complicated about that, Doc." **

The young woman had to bite the inside of her mouth to prevent herself from flinching at the fact that he had just titled her in the same manner that he had titled the ill-fated Doctor Taylor.

"Well, how would you like me to interpret that? Do you mean to say that Liu literally partook in the creation of some one-eyed, six-legged abomination and now he's misplaced it somewhere in the facility?" She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms in the posture with which she'd usually address her more difficult adolescent patients. "You don't need to be so cryptic, Sully. We're not playing guessing games."

Jarrod's warning not to push Sully echoed in the forefront of her mind but McKellan knew that it was crucial for her to establish dominance again.  
Besides, he was restrained, wasn't he?

"**Well, if I told you everything, that would be belittling your skills as a professional, wouldn't it?" **Sully raised an eyebrow slowly, a lock of shaggy brown hair falling over one of his eyes. **"Liu and I aren't idiots. We've been around the block. We know that the first session is just a little taste-test, if you will. More for your benefit than for ours…and on that note, Doctor McKellan, just how old **_**are **_**you? Like I said, Liu and I have been here for quite a while and we've never seen one just as…" **He looked her up and down, his nose scrunching in an apparent show of distaste. **"…**_**green**_** as you…" **

In a desperate effort to force the conversation to take a much-needed U-Turn, the quite _green_ psychiatrist made the split-decision to indulge the young man's curiosity.  
"How old do you think I am, Sully? How old do I look?"

Both of his eyebrows raised, Sully leaned forward, scrutinizing her with a leer that made her feel three times smaller beneath the heavy folds of her clothes. 

"**You're young…but you're definitely older than Liu and I…but not by much…" **He sat back against the wall, folding his own arms. **"By how much, Doctor?" **

"Is it really that important to you?"

"**We agreed to be honest with each other." **

McKellan sighed, desperately wanting to get the conversation back on track. "I'm twenty-seven, if you really care so much."

Sully smirked smugly. **"I was right. Liu and I are nineteen. We're going to be twenty in a few weeks." **

McKellan tilted her head as a point of interest suddenly occurred to her. "Liu…are Sully and you…twins?"

"**In a manner of speaking, yes we are. We have the same birthday anyway." **

"So, which one of you is older? Even with the closest of twins, one twin is always few minutes older…"

"**I'm the younger of the two of us." **The teenager gave a sardonic snort, lifting one leg to rest his ankle upon his knee. **"Though, I must say, it doesn't feel like it with the amount of looking out for Liu that I find myself forced to do." **

"Like I said before, it's very nice of you to be so concerned about Liu's wellbeing but don't you ever feel burdened by having to care for someone else all of the time? Surely, in this kind of environment, having someone aside from yourself to look after…it's going to put an incredible amount of stress on you…"

Sully's voice deepened again, his head dipping forwards, almost in an exasperated manner. **"Do you have any siblings, Doc?" **

McKellan's stomach clenched slightly and she could taste copper in her mouth but she replied in the most controlled demeanour that she could manage. "I have two sisters. One younger and one older."

"**So you're in the middle too," **Sully inferred, his tongue clicking against the front of his teeth. **"You know exactly how I feel…stuck between two…" **His eyes narrowed, his lip curling in revulsion. **"...stubborn…ingrates…" **

His voice descended to a kind of growl and McKellan had to walk around the desk, pretending to check her files just to avoid his eyes. She felt like a dog cornered by a house-cat, cowardly in a situation that should have put her in a position of power.  
"I'm sure you don't mean that about Liu, Sully…I thought his happiness was your first priority. He must mean something to you if you're willing to take such concern in him and even then, he's still your brother at the end of the day…"

"**Forgive my forwardness, Doctor…or don't, it doesn't matter to me," **Sully added brazenly, re-adjusting his legs. **"Did you ever have any **_**problems**_** with your sisters?" **

McKellan was starting to feel dizzy, she thumbed the edges of her files, sitting up against the edge of the desk. "Could you be a little more specific?"

"**Is this your first ever session, Doctor? Because you're a little slow on the uptake. Have you ever been **_**upset **_**with one of your sisters?" **

The psychiatrist silently prayed that the feed that Johnson and his grunts were currently looking at was black and white because she could feel her cheeks starting to heat up.  
She was used to being goaded by bratty, hyperactive children and disgruntled, difficult adolescents but when Sully chided her, it felt as though she was being condescended by one of her own peers.

Quickly trying to return the power struggle, McKellan looked him dead in the eye when she responded.  
Her denim glower into his jaded glare.

"Of _course_ I did. Everyone feels upset with their sibling at some point-…"

"**Don't do that, Doctor!" **Sully exclaimed suddenly, lifting a finger to warn her. **"Don't generalise. Don't simplify the problems of others-…" **

"Sully," McKellan told him firmly, volume elevated but tone calm. "I would _never_ simplify anyone's problems. Everyone struggles. Everyone suffers. But these sessions are about _your_ struggles and _Liu's _struggles. Not mine."

The young man looked across the room at the woman, his eyes slightly shadowed, overcast by his hair and the hood of his patient's garb. A slow smirk spread across his faintly scarred mouth.  
The smirk parted and widened, showing his teeth.  
There was the faintest of pink stains marring the grooves in his gums, indicating that his mouth had been bleeding recently.

Sully sat back, lifting his hands and clapping them in a slow, mocking round of applause.

"**Very good, Doc. You're a talented one, aren't you?" **

McKellan paused for a moment, internally rather mortified, externally quite confused.  
"To what do I owe this accolade?"

Sully's smirk stitched its way across his face, his legs stretching across the floor as he lazilysurveyed her. **"I have never met someone who is so skilled at dodging questions. You must really have done something awful to your sisters to be so avoidant of talking about them." **

_Check. _

McKellan stood up slowly, placing her hands flat on the table and refusing to look away from her patient, she responded by saying: "Liu said he'd rather that we avoided the topic of families earlier. I suppose I still want to honour the fact that the subject might upset him…"

_Check. _

"**Liu's not here right now." **

_Check. _

"But if he were able to hear us, I'd hate him to think that we thought so little of his welfare. Liu is an intelligent young man and deserves to be treated well, doesn't he?"

_Check and mate. _

Sully's conceited smirk seemed to melt from his face, the corners of the smile dropping like the melting corners of a well-lit candle. His eyes lowered for a moment, his lids drooping and before McKellan could even begin to feel nervous, he spoke once more.  
However, what came from his dark, scarred lips was not an arrogant, derisive snarl but a hushed and timid voice bidding her:

"Thank you, Doctor…for thinking so highly of me…I…I'm so sorry about him but…I just can't-…"

Before Liu could say another word, the door to the room swung open and Johnson re-entered, the tails of his white coat billowing in the wake of the sudden gust of air that flooded the room.  
McKellan hadn't realised it at the time but the room had been stifling and retrospective gratitude brought further flush to her already-warm cheeks.

Following Doctor Johnson were two other suited individuals and the same gang of stocky orderlies who had escorted Liu in.  
The older man placed his hand on McKellan's shoulder, giving it a squeeze and smiling down at her.

"Our session is over for today."

Was that really forty minutes? It couldn't have been.  
McKellan's gut started to writhe again, the smile that spread across her face completely contradicting the great internal frown that surfaced within her.  
The session had been unprofessional to say the very least and she had gotten far too personal towards the end. Then again, she wasn't used to being watched and she wasn't used to her patients being restrained.

Furthermore, none of her previous patients had been privy to homicidal tendencies.

McKellan watched as the orderlies flanked the teenager, pulling him from where he sat, unlatching him and surrounding him as they had before.  
Between the gap of their shoulders, she caught a glimpse of exasperated, almost-lethargic eyes; he was more than used to this treatment and he resented it.

Almost four years of this kind of treatment had to have taken its toll on him.

His eyes briefly met hers and immediately darted away, filled with some kind of shame.  
McKellan felt compelled to stand up, despite dislodging Johnson's hand, speaking aloud.

"Thank you for your time, Mr Keaton."

He didn't reply straightaway but as the clutch of orderlies guided him towards the door, she heard him mutter quietly: "Thank _you_, Doctor McKellan."

As soon as the door closed behind them, Johnson gestured for her to take a seat once more.  
Both relieved yet still somewhat anxious, she complied with his order, her smile becoming rather fixed.

"So that was a good session, then," he commented, walking around to the front of the desk with the slightly disjointing air of school principal addressing a student. "You made very good progress, Doctor McKellan."

She forced herself not to look too surprised, her eyebrows spasming as she willed them not to shoot upwards into her fringe. "Uh…you think so, Doctor Johnson? I'm aware the focus was supposed to be on Liu but Sully spoke for quite a long time and- "

Johnson waved a hand, shaking his head. "Liu and Sully are the same individual, at the end of the day. Sully just speaks on behalf of the aggression and other repressed urges that Liu attempts to conceal. Though we'd like Sully to stay as far away as possible, we consider any feedback to be valuable."  
Hand gestures punctuated the Doctor's every word. "Essentially, as the orderlies usually say, Liu is like a tortoise and Sully is the shell that he retreats into when he feels threatened…"

McKellan crossed her legs, nodding and trying to appear eager and interested.  
In truth, she couldn't help but feel that she was being condescended to again but she was so relieved that Johnson seemed to think that the session had gone well.

"Now that _quid pro quo_ way of working was quite risky, I'm not going to lie and a few of my fellows did think that it brought far too much of a personal element to the session. You mustn't bring yourself too far down to the level of the patients. That said, you managed to keep Liu active and talking quite fluently about issues that he took much longer to speak about before." The superior of the two smiled down at his subordinate. "Congratulations, Doctor McKellan. You've definitely warranted the extended six sessions."

Still in numb disbelief, McKellan managed to stammer out a few words of gratitude and modesty before looking down at her notes. "I was actually wondering if I could discuss some of my ground theories with you. If it's all the same with you, Doctor Johnson, I'd really like to pursue the family model from Sully's perspective. See, if he views his role as the younger brother to Liu, relative to Liu's actual younger-older brother relationship with Jeff-..."

"That's alright," Johnson cut across her, firmly. "Starting with your next session, we'll be giving you set activities to conduct with the patient, using our methodologies, speaking of which…"  
The man took a thick, blue, plastic folder from the inner folds of his white coat, handing it to her. "You can look over this for our next session. You know what to do, right? This isn't any different to any other patient you've ever taken…in the paperwork sense."

_Ah yes.  
_McKellan's smile became difficult to maintain as she glanced down at the paper work on her lap. This was the reminder. The delightful reminder that she was nothing more than a puppet.  
Still… "puppet" seemed a better title to her than "cannon fodder."

She noticed the time on Doctor Johnson's digital watch, her eyes widening a little.

"Yes, that's all fine Doctor Johnson. I hate to be overly brisk but am I needed to stay much longer? It's just that I have someone to collect and if I'm going to be late, I'll have to call them."

"Oh there's no problem at all. Here at Smyth's Grove, we greatly value punctuality as a virtue. It's almost twelve, is it? You can leave whenever you'd like. It's probably better if you do leave the premises as soon as possible. There's no reason for you to stay here longer than you need to."

Doctor McKellan rose, nodding and shaking his hand out of formality.

"Thank you, Doctor Johnson. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"See you then…oh and Christine?"

Christine.  
Not Doctor McKellan.  
_Christine. _

"Yes?"

She turned from the door to look at him.

"He's a lucky man. Congratulations to you both."

"P-Pardon?"

"Your engagement ring. I noticed it earlier. When's the date set for?"

"Uh…October. Just about two months from now…"

"Wonderful. Well, congratulations again."

"…thank you, sir."

"_So then the professor calls out "McKenna" and I stand up in the seats, making my way to the end of the row…" _

The bar was loud and raucous.  
Bright and glowing.  
Travis had sneered something earlier about the pointlessness in having booked out a private section if their party still received no peace. 

"…_so I manage to get to the end and I head down the steps but when I get to the lecturer's desk to pick up the paper but old Professor Clinton is looking at me as if I have three heads…" _

Despite the constant flood of noise, she could still hear his voice above everyone else's.  
His deep voice is in careful oration to the rest of the group, sitting in their private section of the bar.

"He's telling _the story_ again," she thought, feeling the tiniest bit of exasperation as she sipped at the strawberry daiquiri, frosty against her gloss-slick lips.

"_I look past his head and see this absolutely beautiful young thing standing behind him and she's looking like an absolute deer in the headlights!"_

That was her cue to look downward and to laugh bashfully.  
She did so with the air of a well-practised, Kubrick-trained actress.

Someone touches her bare forearm, the entire group now joining her in laughter.

"_So, I look down at the paper that I've just been handed and it's got the name " " printed on it. That's when it hits me! He hasn't called out "McKenna", he's called out "McKellan"!" _

His laughter booms over all of the people sitting there and they're all screeching in the cacophony of a birdlike chorus.  
She dutifully joined in but found herself taking another long gulp of her drink- ignoring the straw.  
The cold made her temples throb.

"_So I think, "God damn it, I'm just after making a complete idiot of myself in front of the entire developmental psychology cohort. I'd better try to make something good out of this so that today isn't a complete trainwreck"… then I look at the girl again…gorgeous auburn hair, pretty blue eyes, wearing the cutest little sweater and I think, that's it, I'm asking Miss "C. McKellan" out on a date as soon as class is dismissed…"_

The noise was starting to make her temples throb even further.  
There was some kind of sports game on downstairs on the wide screen and the occasional roaring of the jersey-clad supporters below were starting to permeate the more sensitive parts of her skull. 

One of her female friends was now clutching her arm, squealing excitedly.  
She sounded more like an animal than the civilised, law student that McKellan had once known.

"_Now, at first I'm thinking "Travis, you're pushing forty, what's a cute twenty-something –year-old going to see in you?" but as soon as I start talking to Christine, she freezes up like a man's never looked twice at her in her entire life! It's absolutely precious…" _

Precious?  
She silently wished that he'd have picked a different word besides _precious_.

"_And she's only just turned twenty one but she's unbelievably classy for her age- no offence, Chris, darling…and after seeing her all dolled up in this hot little blue number, I figure, I have to make her mine…and so I do!" _

She stared down at her drink, her face starting to turn the same colour as the liquid in her glass but not for the same reason that all her friends assume it is.

"_And then a few years later, she's qualified and out changing the world, one troubled kiddie at a time. I'm at the top of my game…and low and behold we're still together. I pop the question…of course, she says yes." _

He took her hand into his, kissing her knuckles and forcibly arching her wrist to ensure that the ring's sizeable gem casts a multi-coloured glow around the reserved booth.  
Their friends' eyes widen in awe. 

"…_she makes me the happiest man on the planet…" _

A chorus of "awh" ran around the table, signalling the group of learned suburbanites and uptown art-fetish hipsters suddenly transforming into a huddle of pre-teen romanticists.

"_And I start to consider that maybe it was destiny that I chose to go back to my old Ivy League alma mater for my brush-up course…because I just happened to cross paths with the most stunning little undergraduate in the entirety of the advanced psychology course…" _

Travis beamed as though his story warranted applause, basking in the pleasant commentary of his fellows.  
His fiancée cringed silently, deciding that her performance warranted an Oscar as she smiled and politely excused herself to the bar.

"Grab me another Bulmers light, will you, Chris?" Travis chuckled, slapping her bottom playfully. "Better pull down that skirt a bit though. Don't want any of those football slobs eyeing up my girl!"

Christine McKellan giggled out of habit, (quietly scolding herself for doing so), before turning around and making her way to the bar.  
A sigh ran through her as she took a seat on one of the vacant glass stools, squirming as she tried to adjust her legs beneath the sequin laden hem of her dress.

She had gotten used to Travis critiquing her wardrobe choices, (and disguising his critiques as compliments in front of their friends), but she he was the one who had chosen that dress for the occasion.  
_"Wear the sparkling burgundy one," _he had said. _"The one that shows off your legs and your hips…I want you looking your absolute best, Chrissy. After all, this is technically the first of our wedding celebrations…" _

McKellan ordered Travis' cider and herself a Sea Breeze, dropping her elbows to the bar-surface and mentally reviewing the weeks that she had to come.  
This was the pre-engagement-party luncheon/bar crawl for their friends from work and from University.  
In four days, they'd be having their pre-engagement party dinner with extended family members.  
Then they'd be having their pre-engagement party buffet with close family members.  
Then they'd be having actual engagement celebration with the entire cohort. Travis had booked the Grand Plaza in anticipation of the vast extent of the event.

Then there would be her bridal shower and her bachelorette parties, (one for work-friends, one for university-friends), the wedding photo-shoot for the paper, the Victorian boudoir shots that Travis was insisting on, the meeting with the priest, the practice ceremony, the practice dinner and then finally, _finally_ her wedding day.  
The preparation.  
The ceremony.  
The dinner.  
The after-party.  
The wedding night.  
The honey moon.

And then she'd officially have ended her life as Miss Christine McKellan and have begun her life as Mrs Christine McKenna.  
Minimal name change.  
Maximum effort.

And all the while, she had to maintain a career as a psychiatrist without going quite insane herself.

She paid the bar-tender and lightly stirred the soft, pink surface of her drink.  
Her session with Liu…and Sully…had been preying on her mind; she had never found herself so terrified of a patient before. Of course, there was none to very little hope that she would ever feel entirely comfortable around a patient with a history of homicide within the very facility where she was now working.

McKellan took a sip of her drink, tasting the pulpy, fruity flesh and enjoying the taste.  
Johnson's behaviour had irked her to say the very least.  
She couldn't pinpoint exactly what about his demeanour had filled her with such annoyance but regardless, she felt the annoyance all the same.

Maybe it was something to do with his treatment of such a high-profile patient with such a serious condition?

Maybe it was his disregard for the staff that he allowed to work with Liu?

_Liu.  
_His bright green eyes had burned a permanent image in her memory.  
They were filled with such sorrow…  
Such torment…  
Such complete and utter _disturbance_…

"Move over, Chrissy!"

McKellan flinched, feeling a squeeze upon her shoulder. "Oh, h-hey, Shona…"

Shona Wilkins laughed. "Did I scare ya? You look white as a ghost, babe."  
She muscled her way atop the bar-stool, forcing McKellan to share the seat. "I was wondering what was keeping you. Get hooked by the game?"

"Yes, actually," McKellan replied, lying with a smile. "I'm not the biggest fan but I can appreciate the team's skill."  
"And _I_ for one," Shona purred, leaning on the bar, giving her a nudge. "Can appreciate the _fans_. Can't have you stealing all the attention from the ladies that actually _need _ it…" She clicked her fingers in the face of the bar-tender. "Hey, two shots of _Jaegermeister _for me and my girl here. She's getting married."

McKellan laughed genuinely, nudging her university friend in return and giving her hand a squeeze. "I've missed you, Sho. Or at least I've missed your party attitude…the hangovers I'd get afterwards? Not so much."

It didn't take long before they started chatting fluidly, the conversation twisting this way and that.  
In turn, it didn't take too long for the theme of their talk soon veering towards one of Shona's favourite topics.

"So how have things been with you and Travis? Y'know? In the sack? Things must be heating up since the engagement. He seems like he can't keep his hands off you," she winked, prompting an eye-roll from the woman at her side.

"You'd think that," McKellan returned, licking the last of the _Jaeger_ from the inner part of her lips. "Mmm…we've actually been undergoing a bit of a dry-spell as of late."

"Oh? How long has it been thus far since you last got it?"

"…about a month."

Shona raised her heavily pencilled eyebrows, polishing off her second shot. "Hm? Really? Is it wedding stress or?"

McKellan squirmed, fingering the rim of her glass. "Actually, we're doing one of those no-sex before marriage things…"

"But you two have fucked plenty of times before," Shona asserted, still looking quizzical. "How does that work?"

"Well, Travis read this article in _Cosmopolitan _about how wedding nights can be fantastically better if the bride and groom don't sleep with each other for a few weeks before the wedding," the younger woman explained. "Y'know, your bodies get a chance to "rediscover" each other and it gives us a chance to work on our _emotional-_sexual relationship rather than our _physical-_sexual relationship…and our non-penetrative intimacy…"

Shona was laughing now, shaking her head. "This is why I'm never marrying a shrink. You guys are hilarious." She took a slurp from her glass, now looking at her friend with renewed amusement. "And Travis reads _Cosmo_? Really?"

McKellan nodded, barely concealing a smirk of her own. "Some consumer psychologist that he's majorly into helps to edit it, so sometimes he treats it like the bible…but he'll never admit to it…"

"My ears are burning," a deep voice sounded off by her right ear, a stubbly, wet kiss brushing against her powdery cheek. "I was wondering what was keeping you two ladies…"  
Travis wound a lock of his fiancée's hair around her finger as he reached across the counter to take his desired cider. "Come grace us with your presence upstairs again. It won't be long 'til we'll be heading on our way…"

They left the bar in a taxi at about ten o'clock that evening, making excuses about early mornings and a need to be professional.  
McKellan was just starting to adjust her seatbelt, sitting in the seat behind the driver when Travis' arm looped around her side, tugging her into the middle seat.

"Come here, Chris…keep me warm…"  
"You're wearing more clothes than I am, silly…"

She gave in to his lightweight petting and rested her head against his shoulder, looking up at him.  
He dipped down to kiss her upturned lips, stroking her bare arm.

For the majority of the journey, she stared out the window, into the rapidly darkening sky.  
He hadn't asked her how her day at Smyth's Grove had been.  
She didn't want to push the topic, knowing that he probably had a lot on his mind but at the same time, it would have been nice to be asked.

Eventually, her nerves starting to become threadbare as the anaesthetic of alcohol wore off, McKellan decided to bring up something that had been on her mind. "This orderly said something really bizarre to me today…I have absolutely no idea how to take it…"

"Mmm, what did the orderly say?"

"He said that the only reason Eustace Johnson hired me is because I'm expendable. Like, if God forbid, Liu kills me the way he killed some of his other doctors…my death won't cause as much of a fuss so I'm basically cannon fodder until they find someone more capable…"

"Well firstly, considering they've got the homicidal little bastard all strapped up, there's no way he'd ever get close enough to you to do any damage…and secondly, pay no attention, Chris. I've always said that orderlies today don't know their places. We have the same attitude problem down at St Anthony's…I mean, you have your , I have P. HD and my higher qualifications…do you know how under-qualified the average orderly is? I swear, they'll hire any community college hick with big enough arms nowadays…"  
He kissed the top of her head.

She squirmed.  
They had taken a lot of mockery in the beginning for their age difference.  
It didn't bother her.  
She told herself it didn't bother her.  
But she truly _hated_ it when he kissed her in a…fatherly manner.

"Also, Travis…uh…did you happen to say anything to Professor Reddin about me wanting to work with tougher cases, by any chance?"

"Oh, Boyce? Yes, I may have mentioned it…" Travis smirked faintly. "I may have pushed the matter. I may have mentioned the opening at Smyth's Grange. I may have left your file on his desk…a few times…"

"_What_? Oh, you _didn't_! Travis, I said I didn't want you to use your position to get me work! What's everyone at the main office going to think of me?"

"They're going to think that you're a great psychiatrist with the right connections…and besides, when this is all over, it'll look _amazing_ on your curriculum vitae. Can't you see it now? No place will be able to refuse your credentials. Young doctor…string of successful clients and your magnum opus? Dealing with one of the most bloodthirsty little thugs in Sylton Parkes' history! It's the perfect combination…and this is all part of the plan, right?"

McKellan smiled weakly. "Yes, of course it is…" She furrowed her brow, lifting her head slightly from the sleeve of her fiancée's jacket. "Liu…Liu couldn't exactly be described as a "bloodthirsty little thug"…I mean, he wasn't…anything like I thought he'd be…it was interesting…"  
Her eyes wandered outward into the night once more as Travis started to talk about _"his first interview with a seriously disturbed patient." _She didn't always consciously tune out her husband-to-be's speeches; she just found it difficult to listen to him, sometimes.  
Sometimes Travis felt the need to go on and on, not really caring whether or not what he had to say was of any benefit to the listener.

Boyce Reddin always said that a love of one's voice was a key characteristic of almost every psychiatrist.

Under the criticism of her own psychiatrist- fiancée, Christine McKellan found herself reading her files late into her night.  
She wanted to have the methodologies memorised before she settled to sleep.

The file contained one of the newspaper clippings pertaining to what would become known around Sylton Parkes as "The Keaton Family Tragedy."  
She traced fifteen year old Liu Keaton's boyish, shell-shocked, tear-strewn face, feeling a small vestige of sympathy as she gazed down at the black and white photograph.  
Even though the quality of the photograph was fairly questionable, she could see dark lines crossing the boy's face.

Jeff had apparently carved the lines into his first victim's face after stabbing him in the chest and stomach, multiple times.  
_Overkill_.

She thought of what Jarrod Manson had said and found herself agreeing.  
"Life really isn't fair," she murmured under her breath. "You didn't deserve it…no one deserves that…not from their own family…"

She scanned the newspaper cutting, examining the text.  
_Liu Thomas Keaton (15), a former detainee of St Joseph's Juvenile Detention Facility, has been confirmed as the sole survivor of his brother's act of violence. Jeffrey Eric Keaton (13), following surviving a vicious assault in which he was set on fire and suffered severe nerve damage, stabbed his older brother fourteen times in the upper chest and stomach before grotesquely mutilating his brother's face. Liu (pictured above) is now being kept in a private ward in intensive care, recovering from a punctured lung, several intense gastric surgeries and an extreme blood transfusion. Jeffrey Keaton is still at large and has not yet been located by authorities. Witnesses say that they saw him fleeing the house via the back yard wall on the night in question but it is unknown as to whether he is still within the boundaries of the town. _

She had been twenty-one when the attacks had occurred.  
Deciding that she needed some air, she walked out on to the balcony of the apartment where she lived with Travis.

Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest.  
She had never been prone to vertigo but as her eyes fell upon the distant playground- the duck-pond glistening under the moon's ardent light- McKellan felt inexplicably faint.  
All the same, her eyes found themselves wandering to the silhouetted tree-line.

Jeff had been apprehended just a little over a year ago and now he was in a prison two states over.  
That said, the feeling of dread that washed over her was both strong and undeniable.

She could not remember going back inside.  
Or undressing.  
Or putting her notes.  
But when she awoke next, she was laying in bed.


End file.
